


Let It Linger

by SimpleSpider



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Flirting, Drabble, F/M, Flirting, I REGRET NOTHING, Peter loves cats, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:27:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26253373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimpleSpider/pseuds/SimpleSpider
Summary: She’s a burgeoning lingerie model who stumbles upon her cute photographer neighbor attempting to woo a catMJ and Peter flirting drabblejust what it says on the tin
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49





	Let It Linger

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm trying to do this writing every day thing and occasionally I like something. This is a thing I liked, maybe I'll write more. This is super self indulgent, I basically just wanted to write about Peter wooing a cat the way I talk to my roommates cat  
> They're early-mid twenties

MJ bustles around the room, moving furniture by half an inch at a time to make sure it won’t appear in the shot. After shoving piles of laundry not done and the ‘not-quite-it’ outfits of the day on either side of the room, she steps back. She smooths a hand over her hair, the ends of the curls trying desperately to grab and wrap the tips of her fingers. No matter how she arranges the room, it isn't right. 

The fluidity, the good vibes are all missing. All the things a photographer would bring to the shoot, a good 50%. Not anything she can fake. MJ may want to model, but that doesn’t mean she thinks she can get by on her good looks only. Only with a mind-blowing portfolio, solid management, and a level head on her shoulders would she be able to make the career she wants. But she doesn’t have the money to hire a good photographer right now. To get enough money, she needs to get some contracts. And how does she get contracts? By having a mind-blowing portfolio. The endless cycles of capitalism.

Sighing for the thousandth time, she goes to smoke. A cigarette won’t fix the problems, but it will make the world more manageable. That’s all she can ask the tiny stick to do.

Double knotting her robe as she goes, she makes for the balcony. Grabbing the carton as she walks past her desk, which serves more as a hamper. The sun sparkles brilliantly in the clear sky, the air hot with a cool breeze. A perfect day to do anything besides stay inside. The first drag comes to call it quits for the day and going to the pool. Self-care. The second brings thoughts of quitting entirely, going back to school, getting her PH.D. Can she handle a complete life change? Again? The clicking of someone’s tongue interrupts the thoughts her third pull was bringing.

MJ tilts her head and listens again and the sound bounces around the courtyard, ricocheting off of the concrete balconies. A mans voice follows rapidly on its heels.

“Oh yes, that’s it! Look at me, gorgeous. Just like that.”

Her head tilts to the other side. She goes to the edge and looks over the railing, trying to find the crooning voice. It sounds like it’s everywhere at once. There’s not a soul on the balconies on the side across from her, not even the little Pomeranian that likes to bark. The balconies she could see to her left appear empty, but she’s not totally convinced the scarecrow on the third floor isn’t a person. It looks like it’s winking. 

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. The envy of models everywhere.” The deep voice says in sheer awe. 

Leaning out over the edge, MJ looks down at the floors below her. Without the ledge of the balcony above her, the voice loses a majority of its echo. A floor down and to her right, MJ watches a mop of shaggy brown hair with a DSLR camera for a face kneel adoringly in front of a small sleek one-eyed grey cat with a notch in her ear and a stripe of fur missing from around her tail. She preens in front of him, letting out small chirps and yowls as the young man captures her from every angle. A sound not unlike that of broken glass in a garbage disposal floats up to MJ, who doesn’t think she’s ever seen a cat so loved or purr so loudly. 

The cat leans in to sniff at the camera lens, meowing out a loud demand. The camera slowly lowers, revealing a profile of sharp features and pouting lips. With as much awe in his gaze as his voice, the man stares at the cat.

“Run away with me,” he says to the animal with such reverence MJ forgets she’s creeping on her neighbor and not watching an actor. The cat responds with a small ‘mrrow’. “We’ll leave tonight before anyone knows. Just you and me. Finally, together.”

Another loud meow and another glass into the disposal.

The man reaches out, plucking the cat up under her front legs. “Trash-Can! You’ve made me the happiest man in the world!” He smothers the cat’s face in a few kisses. She pushes his face away with a paw to his cheek, still purring. “Hey, we talked about the claws in the face thing. I forgave you before-”

Pain flashes hot across MJ’s knuckles. She lets out a small shriek in surprise. Yanking her hand away from the edge, the smoldering end of her forgotten cigarette flies off into the courtyard below. She shoves her singed knuckles into her mouth, whimpering and murmuring pitifully at her own carelessness.

“Uh,” The man’s voice wavers. The awkwardness in the air is visible to an extreme degree. It waves and dances like heat in the light, clinging to everything it passes, leaving its uncomfortable poisonous residue. “Is-is someone up there?”

MJ bites higher on her finger to keep down the blush threatening to stain her face. “Yeah,” She answers after a strongly worded internal debate. 

“Oh…”

The air is heavy with silence. No cars, no birds, only the remains of a mason jar being ground to bits. The man clears his throat. MJ peeks cautiously over the side. The pretty face with sharp features from before is the brightest shade of red she’s ever seen a human turn. He’s red from ends of his hair down past the collar of his shirt. He has the cat cradled in one arm, the other holds a fist up to his mouth, probably trying to cover the blush a little.

“How much of that did you hear?” His voice is tight, a cartoonish impression of a business voice. 

MJ can’t fight the smile tugging at her lips. Cute dorks are one of her weaknesses.

“Does it matter?” She asks as coolly, leaning over the edge of the balcony. She rolls her neck, letting the shoulders of her robe dip lower, exposing her collarbones, the top thick straps of her harness. Dark chocolate eyes drag across the view, the Cat-wooer taking her bait beautifully. “You named your cat Trash Can?” 

He looks down at said cat, as if he’d forgotten about it, then back up at her with a vacant expression. “She’s not my cat?”

“So, you talk like this to every cat you meet?” MJ asks with a coy bat of her eyes. A small bite on the edge of her lower lip.

It’s like a hit to the temple, the smile he flashes her. It sucks all the air out of her lungs with its easy, charismatic gravity. The right amount of teeth showing, the earnestness of it. He doesn’t notice his effect, instead he looks at his feet and giggles. It makes her heart flutter. How dare he be this cute.

“N-No, I’m a one wo-I’m a one cat kinda guy.” He looks back up at her, staring at her like she’s a piece of art in a museum. The look of a photographer who may be a little too in love. A look she’s received too many times, but this one feels different. This one feels real.

“Only with cats that aren’t yours, then?” The air between them seems to buzz, a live wire of attraction.

“My names Peter.” He skips answering her question. His eyes drag over each part of her face, her body in what feels like a kid memorizing for a test. Frantic. 

“MJ.” She points at the camera left abandoned on the ground. “Are you a photographer?”

“Yeah. I work for the Daily Bugle.”

“Are you any good?”

“I might have a few awards to my name.” His humble brag smile is far less charming, but MJ can’t say she hates it.

“Ever done a lingerie shoot?”

“Does saying no hurt my chances?”

“Meet me up here in ten?”


End file.
